absolution
by tysunkete
Summary: Part six: unintended sequel. ("…Miyuki-senpai, is there something you want from me?" Furuya asks instead. Miyuki blinks. "Like what? My birthday is over, anyway." "Not like that. The other time, you said you wanted whatever I wanted to give you, but…" "But?" Furuya meets his eyes. "There is something, isn't there, senpai?") Warnings: Breathplay. Furumiyu.


_Title:_ absolution  
 _Fandom_ : Daiya no Ace  
 _Character/Pairings_ : Miyuki/Furuya  
 _Summary_ : Warnings: breathplay.

"…Miyuki-senpai, is there something you want from me?" Furuya asks instead.

Miyuki blinks. "Like what? My birthday is over, anyway."

"Not like that. The other time, you said you wanted whatever I wanted to give you, but…"

"But?"

Furuya meets his eyes.

"There _is_ something, isn't there, senpai?"

 _Notes_ : This is came from watching an episode of Stargate SG-1…don't even ask. Kuramochi 'nope-d' his way out of this one. :')

* * *

 _-there's nowhere left to hide-_

* * *

Miyuki _doesn't_ think he has a higher than average sexual drive—it's probably even less than most, considering that he would, in fact, watch a baseball match than an erotic video. Four months have passed since he's started dating Furuya and they haven't had sex; it's not like he hasn't thought about it, but there's no rush for it especially when both of them aren't exactly experienced in sexual things. In fact, it might be even a little soon to think about that, considering that he really shouldn't even be making out with Furuya in his room with his front door unlocked. Granted his roommates are _never_ in, but it doesn't mean Miyuki should start ignoring these things, not when only a tiny handful of people (maybe just two) know about their relationship and he wants to keep it that way until at least graduation.

However there is a bit of a thrill with the unlocked door, and Miyuki fully aware of the exact moment he decides to shove it out of his mind in favour of invading Furuya's mouth more intensely. Furuya makes a soft sound between them when he releases their lip lock, the other's eyes glazed over and breathing hard. Miyuki can't help but smirk.

"Sa-to-ru," Miyuki whispers, enjoying the little shiver Furuya makes at the sound of his own first name, complete with a harder curl of his fingers on Miyuki's shoulders.

There are some many ways Miyuki have tried tease his straight laced junior, but more often than not Furuya turns the tables around. The first name calling was one of those times—he wanted to see how flustered Furuya could get like the terrible person that he is and he _did_ ; the subsequent dark flush and nervous tremble was nothing he's ever seen before. But the thing is, Furuya _really_ likes it, and that is exactly the problem.

Furuya gazes squarely into his eyes and meets their mouths again, kissing him painfully sweet in response. For some reason Miyuki always feels his chest constricting when Furuya does that, maybe because he can feel the weight of how much Furuya likes him, the careful and dedicated attention to his lips, the gentle hands that start to slide up his neck to cup his jaw, like Miyuki is the most precious thing Furuya has ever owned in his life. Miyuki tries to keep a straight train of coherent thought as heat centres across his face involuntarily, tries to regain a bit of control by groping for the edge of Furuya's shirt to slip his fingers under.

Another thing he has discovered about Furuya is that the pitcher is sensitive around the navel, which is exactly the reason why he brushes his fingertips over the taut skin in lazy circles. Furuya leans into the touch unconsciously, so much that their hips rub against each other, and Miyuki can feel how aroused _both_ of them are.

Miyuki is beyond tempted to touch the other in many defiling ways, but he holds back because he's sure there's a line even he shouldn't cross in debauching his junior so readily, for which Miyuki is surely going to hell (slowly but _surely_ ) already, and it's not like he's totally confident that it'll be pleasurable for Furuya. Miyuki knows what _he_ likes; whether Furuya gets off on his way is another thing.

But of course there are still other…debatably…less incriminating things he lets himself do, like tracing his hands further up Furuya's front, exploring the abdomen and the smooth skin. When they part to breathe, Miyuki notices a redder than usual flush rising up the other's neck, and the even more intoxicated gaze when Furuya leans forward to kiss him again. It's not the first time that he's touched Furuya like this, but every time he seems to indulge himself a little more in going further. He caresses Furuya under his palms, taking the pitcher's slight quivers as encouragement as he moves up to Furuya's chest and deliberately brushes a thumb across the right nipple.

Furuya's breath hitches in response and his hand startles around Miyuki's neck. The soft exhale is incredibly erotic, and Miyuki is vaguely aware that he's really hard in the midst of his desire clouded mind. Whatever happened to holding back on the debauching, Miyuki wonders for a fleeting second before doing it again; this time, pressing on the little nub in slow circles and with a heavier pressure.

Immediately Furuya makes this little whimper and squeezes the hand around Miyuki's neck _tight_ —the next few seconds are a blur as Miyuki abruptly realises that he can't breathe with the pressure on his throat. He tries to suck in air by reflex, but Furuya is pressing against his mouth and his attempt is swallowed by their kiss. For a suspended moment through half-lidded eyes he sees Furuya's long lashes and feels the wet heat around his tongue and the dazed panic that _he can't breathe_ —

And then suddenly all Miyuki is aware of is that he feels incredibly _lightheaded_ and he's groaning into Furuya's mouth.

The sound is loud enough to startle Furuya who pulls back swiftly and then jerks his hand away upon the realisation that he's accidentally choking Miyuki.

"Miyuki-senpai—" Furuya breathes, eyes wide in panic as Miyuki stumbles backwards and heaves a desperate breath of air. "I—I didn't mean to—I'm sorry, I—"

Miyuki closes his eyes and breathes hard, moving to sit himself on the bed to steady himself. Furuya kneels at his feet and looks up at him, expression stricken.

"I…I-I won't do it again. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Miyuki manages after a while when he feels a bit more composed.

Furuya leans on his knees, hands curls into his lap and stays quiet. Miyuki pauses before deciding to put one hand on top of Furuya's head.

"Toru," he says when Furuya blinks. "It's fine," and then he grins slowly. "But you can always make it up to me."

"…How?"

Miyuki tries to plaster on the most innocent expression he can muster. "No pitching at night until next week."

Furuya looks away as though he hadn't heard, and Miyuki snorts. He's kidding—mostly—but before he can decide whether he wants to reassure Furuya that it is a joke, his phone alarm rings. It's square on midnight, which is the latest Furuya should be staying in his room in order not to draw some kind of wayward suspicion on the nature of their relationship.

"You should go," Miyuki says when Furuya continues to look at him with concern.

Furuya nods, but he gently takes Miyuki's hands into his for a brief second before standing up to shuffle to the door. "Good night, Miyuki-senpai."

"Night," Miyuki allows a smile as the other bows shortly before closing the door behind him.

Once alone, Miyuki drops the smile, lips twisting into a grimace. He sucks in a breath and pulls his pants and boxers slightly down.

They're _sticky_.

Well, fuck.

* * *

When Miyuki blinks awake the next morning, the first thing that flashes across his mind is that warm pressure against his neck and that sensation of desperation. The second is that he's hard. A flick off his eye mask and a squint to his phone tells him it's earlier than his alarm was set at, and the light snores in the air from his roommates tells him he's the only one awake. He takes a deep breath but it doesn't clear that feeling away, and he gives into the temptation to experimentally skim over his throat to try to find that same weight and feel.

He has the privacy to take care of his problem if he doesn't make too much noise, and he's always been rather quiet about it anyway. Except when he slips a hand down his boxers to touch himself and unconsciously closes his eyes at the relief, the moment where Furuya had accidentally choked him replays, causing a soft moan to slip through his lips. He replays it again as his hand moves to stroke himself properly; the careful way Furuya had been kissing him and that sudden pressure around his throat, the desperate gulp of air he tried to take from Furuya's mouth, that startling woozy space he ended up in right after—

When Miyuki comes, his other hand is pressing his own neck down, mouth parted and eyes screwed shut.

For the next few minutes he lies still trying to get his breath back, absentmindedly wiping his dirtied hand over his stomach. He never knew he got off to this— _this_ , well, it's erotic asphyxiation, isn't it? He's heard of this before, maybe from some banter amongst the boys in his class, but he can't exactly remember _what_ about it they were talking about. It doesn't matter anyway—Miyuki gropes for his phone and flicks it open, typing it into the internet browser.

He reads through the webpages in ascending order, though he doesn't get past the fourth one when his phone alarm rings in hand.

* * *

As Miyuki learns, he has a kink that he probably shouldn't have. Or anyone for that matter, considering the possible risks. He never knew how easy it is to suffocate someone—or not even with regards to the actual choking itself, he could die from a reaction several minutes later from the lack of oxygen. He's also apparently not supposed to stop the airflow by a hold around his throat or anywhere near the adam's apple; instead, with a hand over his mouth and nose.

Miyuki doesn't want to accidentally suffocate himself to death, but he also doesn't think he's ever been this sexually frustrated in his life. He keeps thinking back on that moment with Furuya, and when he tries to get off to release the tension, he fails without a weight against his throat. It's not the _same_ too, somehow. But this isn't the sort of thing he can just ask Furuya to do again, especially not after the panicked way Furuya had looked at him with after.

It doesn't stop Miyuki from hoping that Furuya would, of course.

The next time they have "time to themselves" is when Furuya tries his luck to get him to catch the other's pitches mid-week during Miyuki's joking no-pitch rule for the week. Instead Miyuki invites Furuya into his room for _alternative_ things they can do like the terrible person that he is. It's not that he means for them to make out always, but he had been checking Furuya's nails and Furuya was the one who took hold of his hand and leaned forward.

The first few minutes are nice and slow, with the all too familiar gentle way that Furuya licks into his mouth, but after those minutes Furuya continues to press very lightly against his lips. Miyuki grips the edge of Furuya's shirt to tug him a little closer.

"Toru," he breathes, gaze direct. "Kiss me harder."

A measure of uncertainly flickers in Furuya's eyes but the other obliges, letting their tongues dance more intimately. Dazed in the growing heat between them, Miyuki unconsciously cups Furuya's neck between his palms and kisses the other hungrier, biting on the other's bottom lip. His thumb strokes the curve of Furuya's nape, drinking in the soft exhales as he invades Furuya's mouth rougher than he's ever done before. He's just so thick into his desire that he doesn't realise that one of his hands drops to grabs Furuya's to put it around his neck until Furuya abruptly jerks that hand away.

Miyuki lets them catch their breaths for a few seconds. "What's wrong?"

Furuya averts his eyes with his hands curled together near his stomach. "I shouldn't…"

"I said it was fine, didn't I?"

"I still shouldn't have hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me."

Miyuki sighs when Furuya doesn't look all that convinced. "Look," he says plainly, grabbing one of Furuya's hand to press it flat against his neck. "It's fine."

Furuya looks like he wants to move his hand but Miyuki doesn't let him until Furuya nods in reply.

"You're not supposed to think too much, monster rookie," Miyuki murmurs before kissing the other again.

But Furuya doesn't leave his hand there, instead choosing to grip the sides of Miyuki's shirt, and for the remainder of the night, Furuya doesn't touch his face once. Obviously the pitcher is still bothered about that one accident—but now, _how_ can he ask Furuya to do exactly that to him again?

* * *

"Miyuki-senpai."

"Miyuki-senpai?"

Miyuki startles when a warm hand rests on his shoulder. He's soaking in the communal bath with Furuya, a thing they've started to do occasionally on late nights. They don't do anything questionable in the baths—sometimes other people do join them—the key aim for Miyuki is really to soak in the hot water since he takes quick showers most of the time, and Furuya likes to sit next to him in the silence.

Miyuki wipes his face with a palm, shaking himself to alertness. "Hmm?"

Furuya looks at him for a silent moment. "Is there something on your mind?"

"Not really," he answers. "You wanted to ask me something?"

"…Next Saturday," Furuya states. "Can we go out?"

Next Saturday, huh. There's morning practice, but there isn't a match. Miyuki doesn't agree or disagree. "What do you want to do?"

"Something that Miyuki-senpai wants to do."

"Are you sure?" Miyuki smirks lightly. "What if I don't want to go anywhere?"

He really should stop doing this, but it's ingrained into him like a reflex action.

"…Miyuki-senpai, is there something you want from me?" Furuya asks instead.

Miyuki blinks. "Like what? My birthday is over, anyway."

"Not like that. The other time, you said you wanted whatever I wanted to give you, but…"

"But?"

Furuya meets his eyes.

"There _is_ something, isn't there, senpai?"

Without Miyuki's glasses and with his vision blurry he doesn't know what kind of expression he's really making, but it definitely cuts whatever impact he means to make. "Furuya—" Miyuki starts, tone even, but Furuya stares at him resolutely and he falters off.

"Toru," he tries again, this time purposely leaning close and dropping his tone. "How about having sex with me?"

Miyuki isn't really being serious—his fascination with breathplay doesn't need to lead to sex, but he's curious about it anyway. Furuya's cheeks are flushed, but Miyuki can't really tell if that's a reaction to his question or whether they've been soaking in the water for too long. It's abruptly dead silent for a long minute, until Miyuki scratches his nape with a teasing grin.

"Do you even know what—"

"Okay," Furuya says over him, soft but firm.

Miyuki eyes him for a moment. "…Are you just saying this because it's me?" he asks. "This isn't the kind of thing you just say 'yes' to."

"Because it's you," Furuya answers. "I always think of you when I…"

"When you…?" Miyuki prods with a raised eyebrow when Furuya stubbornly stays quiet after that.

But it's not like Miyuki can't guess where Furuya is going with that—on the side, he mentally notes that there are _some_ things even Furuya won't say so bluntly.

"Really," Miyuki says when the silence just drags.

He doesn't know why _he's_ so surprised, considering that Furuya has been in love with him for quite a while now. He hums and leans back against the tub.

"Well, we're not going there yet," he says, tilting his head. He takes a moment more to savour the hot water. "Let's wash off."

* * *

Miyuki tugs Furuya to his room after the bath. His hair still somewhat wet, but at least it's not dripping when he rests against the foot of his bed, releasing a sigh at his relaxed muscles. Furuya sits beside him towelling his hair. Miyuki watches him with a slight smile—it's odd how some of the little mundane things that Furuya does can look so cute.

"Satoru," he begins, watching how Furuya stills and turns to glance at him. "The first time you accidentally choked me. I liked it."

Furuya's eyes widen in slight surprise.

"I want you to do it again."

Furuya slowly slips the towel down to his neck, averting his gaze to his feet. "What if I…"

"Well, not exactly like what you did before. You won't really be choking me, just," Miyuki shrugs. "The feel of it."

The pitcher takes some time before he speaks. "I can't say I understand that, but…if you like…"

"I'm not forcing you to do anything," Miyuki states clearly. "Not this time, anyway," he adds with a small smirk.

Furuya faces him properly this time. "…If you show me," he starts slowly. "I…"

Miyuki kisses him silent. When he pulls back, Furuya's eyes blink open, and then his eyelashes flutter shut again when he leans forward to kiss Miyuki back. Miyuki finds Furuya's hands and gently guides them up to his neck. He moves to one to just below his jaw, clear from his adam's apple. A heated curl starts up low in his abdomen–he can't believe he's getting turned on by just this.

"Here. You don't have to press, but even if you do, you're not really choking me like this, see?" he demonstrates. "Anytime that you want to stop, we'll stop."

"What if Miyuki-senpai wants to stop?"

"I'll put my hand on your nape. If I let go, it means stop, okay?" Furuya nods, and Miyuki smirks widely. "So kiss me."

Furuya does.

It's slow and careful, and Miyuki impatiently pulls him down to mesh their mouth deeper. Furuya exhales into it, shifting his weight by dropping his knees to the floor and pressing Miyuki up against the frame of his bed as they go on. Furuya's arm is at a slightly awkward angle and once or twice Furuya leans back, but Miyuki always grabs him back down to continue what they've started. It's hard to think with the weight against his throat and from breathless he gets with how hard he kisses Furuya trying to reach _whatever_ he felt the other time. He chases it with the heat low in his gut stirring hotter and hotter, unable to resist slipping his other hand down to palm himself against his crotch. He's close, really close, and he presses against himself again, this time sighing out a short breath of relief that quickly builds up to an itch that wants _more_ —which he does while Furuya is concentrated on kissing him, and it starts to get hard to breathe.

That's _it_ , that's it again, with Furuya's warm weight against his throat and his eyes widening abruptly when he's gasping for a breath of air the moment he makes a particularly rough press against himself. He hits it so much _faster_ and _harder_ than he expects, with the long drawn out groan loud enough for Furuya to pull back in alarm.

Miyuki breathes harshly, aware that his face must be incredibly flushed with his glasses sitting skewed on the bridge of his nose. He's still coming down from the high of the orgasm when Furuya cups his face gently and stares at him, eyes tracking over his features in concern.

"Hey," he manages after a while, edges of his lips curled. It _is_ a bit embarrassing to be stared at right after he just came. "I didn't let go."

Furuya seems to acknowledge his words but the pitcher continues to look at him intently.

"What is it?"

"I…" Furuya swallows, eyes burning hotter than they ever did before, pupils blown wide.

It seems like the junior is at a clear loss of words to say, but Miyuki recognises that look. He inwardly chuckles, ignoring the sudden thought that they should've done this before they bathed as his pants are start to feel uncomfortable. He also ignores the warning system of _do not_ blaring in his mind, sliding a hand up Furuya's thigh. He doesn't need to touch Furuya to know that Furuya is hard but he does so anyway; Furuya moans with a stuttered, surprised breath from the action, cheeks flushing darkly—now _this_ , he knows it's from what _he's_ doing.

Miyuki doesn't get the chance to say whatever terrible line that's on the tip on his tongue because Furuya surges forward to kiss him, but, it's equally terrible that against Furuya's lips, he laughs.

* * *

 _-the truth burns deep inside-_

* * *

 _ **Fin.**_


End file.
